A Battle of the Less Conventional Kind
by Gingerbread Owl
Summary: France suggests an unusual means of resolving a taxing issue for the Allied Powers. Naturally, England disapproves.


**A/N:** I wrote this for the Hetalia_Kink community on LiveJournal. It's not quite what was requested but I hope people enjoy it anyway!

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I don't own any of these countries or their personifications, I am merely borrowing them for fun.

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**A Battle of the Less Conventional Kind**

It was all France's fault, England decided as the debate abruptly dissipated. All around him, the Allied Nations were panting, clothes unzipped, faces flushed, eyes too bright. The room was excessively hot. To his right, France was stroking himself leisurely, utterly relaxed, apparently immune to embarrassment of any kind. Discreetly glancing his left, England watched America's hand from under his lashes, flushing with shame when the taller Nation winked mischievously at him. Across the room, Russia was staring fixedly at nothing immersed in twisted fantasies, hair clinging damply to his forehead, eyes burning with intensity.

England shifted his eyes away and glared solidly at the floor, determined not to betray the faintest hint of pleasure as his hand moved quickly, efficiently. He endeavoured to ignore America, whose brilliant blue eyes were seeking his, that languid smile teasing, challenging. England felt his cheeks flush hotter.

France was murmuring now, soft passion spilling from his lips in beautiful, filthy prose, every word pricking England's pride. His hand moved faster, slicked by treacherous traces of enjoyment that he attempted to ignore. That such a situation could be arousing was absurd.

America's breath quickened and England's resolve melted into the heat of the room. He closed his eyes, imagining that it was his name tumbling from France's mouth, that it was America's hand pushing him over the edge.

To his right, he heard France climax with a satisfied _a-ah_ softly echoed by Russia as he uttered ain indistinct name.

Instantly aware that only he and America were still going, England permitted himself a subtle glance in the other Nation's direction, flushing when their eyes met. Was America_ watching _him? Blue eyes locked onto green and England found that he couldn't tear his gaze away, even when America tipped his head back and came with a loud groan.

Now he was the only one left and three pairs of eyes were fixed on him, watching every stroke, alert to every stifled gasp and muted moan. Closing his eyes, England was unaware of their intent until it was too late. His eyes flickered open and his hand faltered as the three Nations closed in.

"Want a hand?" America whispered, smiling too broadly.

Desire devoured mortification and England could only watch in hazy fascination as America's hand moved faster and harder, each thrust bringing him closer to his limit. France made a gentle _tut_ sound and tilted his face up, capturing England's mouth with his own, drinking in every poorly checked whimper. The pleasure was relentless. Russia's rough fingers unbuttoned his uniform jacket, exposing hot flesh and showering it with deliciously cold, wet licks, teeth grazing over the surface of England's skin.

It was too much. Soft, hot, sharp, icy kisses and delicious friction fused. Grabbing a fistful of Russia's coat, he moaned, trembling, into France's mouth. Lust-glazed eyes fluttered open to the sight of America licking his hand clean.

The sound of the door banging open breached the sultry calm and the recently entered China and Lithuania froze in the doorway. There a horrified silence, then:

"What the heck, aru?!"

Apologies tumbled from Lithuania's mouth as he lurched back through the door, dragging his scandalised companion with him. An eerie smile settled on Russia's face as he rose to his feet and began to follow, leaving the other Nations to resolve the issue that had started the whole thing.

"Alors," France took the liberty of smirking when the sound of alarmed squeaking had faded into the distance. "It looks like England will be washing the dishes after all."

A few hours later, up to his arms in soapy water, England conceded that doing the dishes wasn't all that bad, really.

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I wrote this rather quickly so I hope it doesn't seem too clumsily put together. At least I managed to avoid any 'mass debate' puns XD Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading. Please review!


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